


I Never Dreamed Of This

by Ivegotaheadlineforyou



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Eurydice doesn't die because I don't like ~sadness~, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Like PURE fluff, My parents of the underworld, Not Canon Compliant, Persephone focused, Post-Canon, picture fluff and then triple that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 13:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivegotaheadlineforyou/pseuds/Ivegotaheadlineforyou
Summary: "Persephone, her eyes closed as if in prayer, pressed her palms to the ground, pushing as if to send it a message. She was sending a message to Hades — a message that read "I love you." That read "I miss you." It was like sending a small reminder: Even in her wildest, happiest moments up above, she was thinking of him.***Hades must watch Persephone go each and every year. He only hopes that she waits for him.Persephone Centric. Based on This Love by Taylor Swift





	I Never Dreamed Of This

**Author's Note:**

> Wow!! Another fic where I totally ignore canon and base plotlines off of my favourite TS songs! My brand gets stronger by the day.
> 
> UnBeta'd.
> 
> Hadestown belongs to Anaïs Mitchell, god bless her soul.

_This love is good, this love is bad_

 

Eurydice and Orpheus waited for her every year since Eurydice returned. They waited for her on the station platform, tucked into one another, waiting ever so patiently for spring to come again. On this particular almost-spring morning, they were leaning against a tree, Eurydice’s back against Orpheus’ chest, his arms wrapping around her, a blanket covering the two of them. While the snow had begun tomelt, the spring had not fully bloomed. The wind still held a chill, the air still bit. They sat quietly, Eurydice squeezing his arms every once in a while, Orpheus pressing kisses against her hair.

Orpheus asked, “What kind of mood do you think she’ll be in?”

Eurydice shrugged. “Hard to say. Winter hasn’t been as bad as it has been in the past. It was… kind of nice, at times.” 

They sat, wrapped in a warm blanket that they knew they wouldn’t need for much longer, and waited. When they heard the train, Eurydice looked back at him, and the two of them smiled to each other. They stood up, grabbed their blanket and walked to the platform.

Through the window they could see that she was not alone on the train. Her husband had accompanied her — he did this sometimes, but not always. They stood close together, her hands on his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. His hands at her waist, holding her in place. They were speaking softly, but they held each other with a kind of ferocity. His eyes looked… soft, thought Orpheus. She looked sad, thought Eurydice. They stood there for a while, whispering back and forth. It could have been sweet nothings they were exchanging. Could be vows that would last a lifetime. Could simply be soft _goodbyes_ back and forth until the word lost all sense of meaning. Orpheus and Eurydice both had the thoughts to look away from them, but couldn’t pry their eyes away. It wasn’t often that they saw the embodiments of life and death embrace one another like it was both the sweetest hello and the saddest goodbye. They watched them speak, watched them kiss, and watch them pry themselves apart.

Eurydice didn’t know how she did it. Step off that platform every spring. Sometimes April, sometimes June, but she always did. Step off that train with a kick in her step, throw down her suitcase, and beacon the lovers into an embrace, sweet as honey, warm as whiskey. When they pulled apart, Orpheus’ lyre that was strapped to his back was wrapped loosely in vines, and Eurydice had a crown of red carnations weaved through her hair. Persephone’s first act of growth — of rebirth — of the summer. She had done this every year since… well, since.

“How’re you doing, little lovebirds? Did you miss me?” She was acting coy, a smile tugging on her lips. Eurydice laughed, looping her arm through the goddess’, and pulling her close. 

“We always do, Persephone,” Orpheus said, pulling away from the two women and picking up her suitcase. “When you’re gone we just sit around shivering, calling your name!” Orpheus was laughing now, and Persephone’s smile got wider and wider.

“It’s true,” Eurydice nodded. “‘Persephone!’ we scream, ‘we miss Persephone!’”

Their laughter was cut short with the sound of the train whistle. Persephone sobered, slightly, turning back to look at the train. She caught her husband’s eyes, as he stood watching the three of them embrace. He grinned a little, sadness tugging at his mouth, and winked at her as the train began pulling away. She winked back and blew him a kiss. He’d deny it if you asked, but Eurydice swears she saw him catch it and put it in his coat pocket, a rose blooming in the same spot.

“Come on, kids,” She said, looping an arm through Orpheus’, sandwiched by the lovers. “Let’s go party.”

 

 

_This love is alive back from the dead_

 

 

Summer was long, bright, warm. The skies were blue, and the harvest was lush. Persephone was in a good mood, and thus, so was Demeter, and so was the rest of the mortal realm. Summer passed slowly, and lazily, as if in a daze. Filled with parties, campfires, kisses, picnics on the beach, and sleeping in the meadows. You could barely keep anyone inside, even on rainy days. On more than one occasion, you could see Eurydice and Persephone dancing in the rain, and Orpheus’ calling to them, his laughter betraying him. 

“Come inside!” He’d shout over the rain. “You’ll catch your death out there!” Eurydice only laughed. She was soaking wet, her white shirt and yellow skirt drenched through, clinging to her chest, to her legs. She ran over to him, pulled him into a heated kiss, pressing their bodies together, before pulling away all to quickly, laughing and rejoining Persephone. He rolled his eyes, the front of his clothes now wet, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of them

“Play for us, poet!” The goddess called, her hair wet and feet bare. She stretched out her hand for Eurydice, who took it willingly.

“Yes, Orpheus, sing for us!” How could he refuse? He grabbed his lyre and sat in their doorway, away from the rain, and began strumming a lively melody. He watched the women — one seemingly old as time, one still so young — dance around in reckless abandon. They spun and jumped and sang along to his signature song, the one that brought the spring home, the angry, dark sky juxtaposing their airy and joyous laughter. 

They danced and danced until they couldn’t dance anymore, and they fell on their backs on the ground, doubling over with laughter. Orpheus watched as Persephone, her eyes closed as if in prayer, pressed her palms to the ground, pushing as if to send it a message. And then he realised that that was exactly what she was doing. She was sending a message to Hades — a message that read _I love you._ That read _I miss you_. It was like sending a small reminder: Even in her wildest, happiest moments up above, she was thinking of him. 

“Come inside now! I’ll make you both some tea and you can warm yourselves by the fire!” The rain was getting louder now, and both women finally gave into him — After all they had been through, he had become the most rational of the three of them. At least in this situation.

Despite her soaked figure, he pulled Eurydice out of the rain and into the house, and into his arms and kissed her all over her face. He lifted her off the ground, spinning her around, before pushing her jokingly into their bedroom. “Get out of those wet things! Or you’ll be sick for the rest of the summer.” She laughed and did as she was told. Orpheus grabbed a towel from the back of the door and handed it to Persephone. “For you, my lady. And I’m sure Eurydice can find you something to wear while your clothes dry.” He knew that she could warm herself up, and dry out her clothes, but he also knew that she took pleasure in the simple, mortal elements of life — wet hair, a slight chill. Fresh clothes after a rain dance. She took the towel and smiled at him before following Eurydice.

Orpheus went to stoke the fire, coaxing it to grow a little, before he sat down in front of it, waiting for the two women to join him. And when no one was watching, he pressed his hands to the ground. _We’re taking care of her_ , Orpheus thought, unsure what this notion would do, but feeling compelled to do it anyway. Hades had been the cause of his greatest grief, but he knew that the King was changing. If he had to be apart from Eurydice so often, he would think that he would appreciate a little reassurance.

 

_These hands had to let it go free_

 

Summer came, and summer stayed. But summer needed to leave as well. Leaves needed to die, and the fall season needed to be harvested. Persephone had had a sleepless night. Tossing and turning, she felt too cold in her own skin. She felt the slow drawl of autumn arrive, only visible in the dead of night, when Summer should be sleeping. So she took a walk, under the stars, moon high and full in the sky. She breathed in the mild night air and with a long breath out, she came to a conclusion.

“Tomorrow,” She whispered into the wind. “I think I’ll go home tomorrow.”

And so, the Poet and the Songbird waited with her again, wanting to send her off with their love. She had done so much for them in their times of need, and they knew how she hated to face the platform alone. So they waited, the three of them walking side by side along the tracks, waiting for the train to appear. She had left her suitcase and a case of wine on the platform, and they spoke about summer memories, and their plans for the winter. 

“I think we might go travelling somewhere. We heard whisper of lights in the night sky. Blues and greens and yellows lighting up the whole thing,” Orpheus smiled. 

“Or we must just hibernate for a few months,” Eurydice added, earning a laugh from Persephone. Eurydice continued on: “Pull our bed into the living room and not leave it for half a year. Just sleep and hold each other, and…” She let her voice trail off, causing Persephone to laugh harder, and Orpheus to blush. 

Through their laughter, they heard the first sounds of the train. Persephone perked up at that. She knew that she was ready to go home, but she wasn’t expecting her heart to lurch in the way that it did. She wasn’t expecting to feel her heart restart when she knew that he was near. She looked behind her to see the silhouette of the train in the distance, and the smile that crossed her face signalled the last warm day of summer.

 

***

 

He didn’t always take the train up to collect her. Sometimes, he just sent Hermes, decided it was time to retrieve his wife, missed her too much and craved her warmth beside him. But some years, he awoke to a feeling in the air, the feeling that the winds had shifted. That he should tidy the house, dress up a bit, and hop the train to the Upperworld. He woke up with a feeling settling deep in his bones, that _she’s coming back to you. She’s coming home_. And he would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel somewhat relieved on those days.

So that was what he did. He made the bed, he checked to see that the cupboard was stocked. He fed the strays and watered the few plants that she had left growing when she left. It was only six months, he had to remind himself. She was only gone six months, but alternatively, she had been gone _six months_. He felt pitiful saying that he spent those months counting down the days until she came back, but he did. After he had torn down the monstrous industry that was the Hadestown’s Wall, he and the children of the Underworld sat lifeless for a summer. Without the wall, there was no semblance of a life force — there was nothing to keep them all going. Hades worked himself to the bone to keep things moving, to not let the world go static, but it wasn’t until his Lady appeared that October that life moved forward in Hadestown.

 

_“Hades,” she had whispered when she stepped off the train. It was dark, cold, motionless. It felt like being slapped by the wind, and it caused her to stumble on the platform, dropping her suitcase. “What happened?”_

_He looked at her, stared deep into her eyes, forgetting to breathe for a moment, and he only spoke once he had collected his breath. She’s here, he reminded himself. And if she’s here there’s nothing bad that can truly happen._

_“Every single thing I do, I do it for the love of you,” he said to her, his voice rough as gravel, and his words packed with sadness. He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore, instead focusing on the chain of daisies around her neck. “I built the wall because I thought it was what you wanted. I tore it down when you said it wasn’t. I tore it down when I realised how wrong I had been. And now I…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. How does the king of the underworld admit that he has no idea what his wife truly wants._

_“You waited for me,” she said simply. He looked up to find her staring at him, eyes soft as summer grass._

_He nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought it best to build it with you, rather than for you.”_

_And with that she took a few big steps forward and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her face into his shoulder. He was so stunned — they hadn’t acted this way around each other in years, possibly decades — and it took him a moment to respond, to stop standing with his arms frozen by his side, and instead wrap them around her waist and hold her to him. She smelled like blossoms and mulch, and she felt like distilled vitality thrumming in his grasp. He held her close to him._

_This was them, trying again._

 

On the train, Hades looked out the window, watching his city rush past him. They had spent the last three winters since the ordeal with Orpheus and Eurydice rebuilding. Hadestown resembled a functioning city, rather than a factory now. People still worked, but the work they did powered the city. They created just enough to keep warm, fed, and safe. Poverty was still the enemy, but they no longer built walls for the sake of building. They built homes, they built lives. Persephone’s influence on the city could be felt on every street corner — It was still the Underworld, still Hell. But it felt like an afterlife for those who resided there. 

When the train broke free from the underground, Hades’ attention sharpened. The platform he had built for her wasn’t too far away from the tunnel’s opening, so he knew — no, only hoped — that she would be in the vicinity. He didn’t want to miss a single second of her. Were anyone to watch him in these moments, they would be convinced that he felt nothing. He was poised, stoic.

He saw that bright dress first. That damn green dress was what Hades associated with Spring more than flowers and blooms and fresh water. It was his wife in that dress, bracketed by those damn lovers, the Poet on her right, the Songbird on her left. Her hair streaming down her back was what he saw next. That mess of curls was piled high on her hair, and it still cascaded down her back in tight loops. He couldn’t see it, but she had thin vines creeping through some of the curls, all connected to the flower tucked behind her left ear. She looked so young, so full of sunshine and soil. She was one with this earth, and he knew what happened when she came with him — just as the upstairs did, she wilted. But she was here. She was _waiting_ for him.

If Hades was a more generous, more selfless man, he would have open borders for her, let her come and go as she pleased. But he could barely deal with her departure once in a year, let alone whenever she pleased. She had told him, once, that the upstairs could die and still be reborn. That she looked forward to breathing new life into everything. He took her word for it, and looking around, he saw how beautiful her handiwork was. She had built all of this. His wife was a wonder.

At the sound of the train’s whistle, she whipped her head around over her shoulder, and her face cracked open into a wide grin. The train kept speeding forward to the platform, and as he approached, Persephone broke away from Orpheus and Eurydice to run alongside the train, towards the platform. As she ran, flowers bloomed in her footprints, and Hades fell in love with her all over again. Her chest heaving as she searched the windows, unsure where he’d be sat. It wasn’t until the train had already passed her that she saw him, looking back at her. He couldn’t help but smile at her, and she ran faster at that. She wouldn’t reach the platform before him, but the fact that she was running after the train, after _him…_ it made all the difference.

“Haven’t seen her this excited all summer,” Hermes said with a smile on his face, as the train came to a stop and Hades quickly stood up and went to the door. “Hopefully a calm winter lies ahead.”

Hades didn’t respond to him, but Hermes took no offence. He knew that the King’s mind lay elsewhere. Hades stepped off the train and turned back to watch Persephone run. He strode quickly to the end of the platform, and onto the grass, walking to meet her. 

She was laughing as she launched herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist, as her legs wrapped around him, and they held each other tightly, the smile on his face widening, obscured by her curls. He felt true warmth for the first time in months as her felt her press her face against his neck, could feel her breath. He brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head, and in a moment he was that young man, and she the young girl, so helplessly in love, sneaking moments in her mother’s garden. He never felt younger than when he held her like this. There was a time, not so long ago, that he thought he’d never get to hold her again, and now every hug, every second that they were connected, he cherished.

She pulled her head back to look at him. He could feel the vines in her hair growing, and her smile was just for him. “You’re early,” he said. She had said this before to him, her voice laced with distain, anger, and straight up hatred. But now, he took her words and spun them around. He said it with an air of playfulness to it. 

She smiled at him, and whispered “I missed you,” in the deepest voice she could, playing along. He grinned at her before leaning in and capturing her lips in a deep kiss, claiming her as his own. But of course Persephone could never be taken, never claimed — not then, not now. No, she went willingly, capturing him right back. 

 

_This love came back to me._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for the love & support on my other works. This is my first Persephone/Hades focused fic, so please let me know how you like it!
> 
> Also thank you to all who are sending me prompts on Tumblr y'all are so so wonderful. There is more coming!  
> I'm also getting to see the show on the 23rd (!!!) So I'm sure that my love and inspiration will only spike.
> 
> As always, I'm IveGotAHeadlineForYou on tumblr! Come say hi! Send me prompts!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


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